Wonderwall
by HellRaiserAlchemist
Summary: Fuji and Tezuka contemplate their relationship. A short, two-shot warm-up to ease back into anime fanfic. (Fuji's chapter is the only one up at the moment; Tezuka's soon.)


His form is what draws Fuji's attention.

The careful, almost aloof sense of authority. The bait, drawing people in to sate their curiosity because surely, _surely_, this cannot be Seigaku's captain. This monotonous, calculated individual cannot be the one they hear under-breathed rumours about. He can't be in league with the others—with the ever expressive Atobe or the intimidating Yukimura.

And, as much as he tries to deny all accusations, Fuji is no better than they are.

He tries to deny the curiosity that he hasn't shaken off for three years—the burning desire to see _just how far_ he can push his captain—and the nigh damnable infatuation.

He wonders, in passing, if Tezuka's figured it out in his somehow charming manner.

What his captain lacks in social skills, he's made up for as a leader and a supporting player. (He wonders how much Tezuka hates his role; burning to play in a match but knowing he needs to be saved for last if his faith falls short. Fuji knows he would never qualify as a captain himself; he's too selfish for such a role.) And, it isn't necessarily that Tezuka lacks social aptitude all together; on the contrary he excels in reading the situation and his teammates and always knows exactly what to say.

Perhaps it's more accurate to say he's unaware of how others perceive him in a more personal manner. It would certainly explain how he's able to shrug off the calculated glowers from Atobe and Sanada—the glowers that Fuji will return if they even look to be _considering_ revenge for their losses. (He scowls whenever Tezuka pulls him away and mutters for him to calm down, _especially_ in regards to Atobe. He'll rip Atobe's spine out before he forgives him; the Hyoutei captain has _no right_ to be upset and no one has been able to tell Fuji otherwise.)_  
_

As admirable as it is, it turns infuriating.

Because it isn't just shrugging off heated, grudge-holding glares and snide remarks.

Fuji wonders if Tezuka is ever aware of the softer glances. Not the worrying ones that Oishi and Kawamura will send him between practices and matches (Fuji knows he's all too aware of those) or the respectful, two-second side glances from Echizen.

Tezuka doesn't jump when Fuji runs a hand over his right shoulder (mindful and delicate as Fuji resists all urges to glance at his left arm and bites hard on his tongue to keep from asking questions he knows will be brushed off) and merely tilts his head, lightly, in acknowledgement and makes a vaguely questioning noise in the back of his throat.

Fuji doesn't sigh when Tezuka's attention remains on the roster in his hands; he just lets a carefully practiced smile light up his face, even as his hand is drawn away, "The others are waiting."

"Aa."

"Should I tell them you'll be a moment longer?"

"That won't be necessary."

Fuji's eyes flit across the paper and narrow dangerously. He knows Tezuka can feel the glare, if the way he stands just a little straighter and shifts the paper (so Fuji can't see the line-up as clearly) is any indication.

Fuji's name isn't on the line-up.

"Wouldn't it be better for me to play Akutagawa-san?"

He doesn't try to keep the bite from his tone; but, Tezuka doesn't flinch. He doesn't shrug away, even when Fuji's grip tightens and his fingers dig into Tezuka's shoulder.

"Perhaps."

"Then why is Echizen playing him?" He wonders if Atobe had something to do with this.

"Because Akutagawa-san is _not_ your intended target and I will not allow you to play Atobe."

Tezuka finally turns to make eye contact. In any other situation, Fuji would applaud his ability not to shrink away from the glare and maintain eye contact, "You will regret it if you play him."

"Regret is part of life; live and learn, no?"

"Your style is violent when you're vindictive." Tezuka's tone is flat, a mirror of exasperation that Fuji would normally find endearing if not adorable (the desire to tease his captain is easily drowned out by the slowly bubbling rage), "I will not allow your desire to annihilate Atobe-san to be put into play against an undeserving opponent. It's too dangerous for him—"

"—Maybe Atobe will think twice before considering a 'practice match', then—"_  
_

"—and you."

Fuji blinks, rage subsiding to confusion for the briefest moment, "I hardly see how _I'm_ in danger."

"The more vindictive you are, the more violent you are," Fuji nods at the words; he already knows _that_, "the more careless you become and the easier you expose yourself to the possibility of strains."

Tezuka _might_ have a point; Fuji just scowls.

He tries (and fails) to repress the ripple of pleasure when Tezuka brushes his shoulder when he passes by and nearly misses the quiet promise:

"I'm sorry. You'll have your chance against Atobe. Just wait a little longer."

Maybe Tezuka _does_ notice when Fuji spends just a little too long smiling at his back.

"Calm down, in the mean time." These words are just a little louder, more conversational than the close whisper and Fuji nearly laughs. He does let a minute chuckle slip by when Tezuka opens the door and Kikumaru and Momoshiro collapse into the club room from where they'd been pressed to the door trying to eavesdrop.

Even if it's a grandeur lie, he likes to believe that just maybe Tezuka does notice and just isn't certain how to approach the situation.

Luckily, Fuji is _extremely_ patient when it comes to Tezuka. He's willing to wait him out, even if it is just for the curious pleasure in watching his captain struggle for once; it makes up for the three years Tezuka's watched him fluster under the slightest praise.

(He _knows_ Tezuka's aware of how easily he flusters the tensai; no matter how much his captain will try to deny it, Fuji has seen the tiny quirk of a smile that follows any compliment and as far as he's concerned Tezuka is extremely aware of Fuji prying for praise.)

* * *

... Eto... I have. No excuse;;;

I haven't written for Prince of Tennis in about two years and Perfect Pair for... Hell, eight?

I'm so sorry, I just. Had a sudden slap of "I _need_ Perfect Pair" and. This happened, I'm so sorry I'll leave again.

If I can coax Tezuka out, this _should_ be a two-shot. Feedback is wonderful, thank you /bows out


End file.
